


What the Hell Did I Drink?

by leafingbookstea



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Canon Compliant, F/M, ok really meta, sort of canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafingbookstea/pseuds/leafingbookstea
Summary: When worlds collide, Jack's head suffers. Again.





	What the Hell Did I Drink?

**Author's Note:**

> My October trope submission and the bonus prompt - all in one tiny, head-banging fic.

**What the Hell Did I Drink?**

“Cut!”

           

            Detective Inspector Jack Robinson knew he had a hard head; his father told him so many times since he was a little boy. He wished that the idea wasn’t tested so often, however. He shook his head slightly to clear his vision after this latest blow. No, he must still be dreaming. The last thing he remembered was being in Miss Fisher’s parlour, having just downed something disgusting that was not one of Mr. Butler’s cocktails.

 

            He opened his eyes and saw Phryne looking down at him. At least, he thought it was Phryne. When did she start applying her makeup with such a heavy hand? Was her parlour always this brightly lit?

 

“Pip! You weren’t supposed to actually hit him with the door!” Phryne Not Phryne was looking down at him then up at someone standing on his other side.

 

“The door wasn’t anywhere near him. It wasn’t me!” The man called Pip replied.

 

Jack looked over at his would-be attacker. The man was older, his shirt open at the collar showing a make-up line near the neck. _Where was he?_ Jack thought to himself. _Was he dreaming?_

 

Another man, wearing an undershirt, dungarees and what looked like India rubber earmuffs, held out his hand to Jack and asked “You all right, Nathan? Can we do another take?”

 

Jack started to say that his name wasn’t Nathan but his detective’s instincts told him to play along until he could figure out where he was and what was going on.

 

“I’ll be fine,” he said and got to his feet and looked down. His clothes were his own, right down to his favorite, comfortable, brown shoes. The floor he was standing on was not familiar. Directly under his feet was Miss Fisher’s rug, but there were silver patches and electrical cords everywhere else. It reminded him of the sound equipment Raymond brought over during their investigation of the film set. Then Jack saw the lights. And the ceiling had large beams where there should have been pressed tin ceiling tiles. _What was happening? Who were all these half-dressed people standing around the room? Is this a film set?_

 

“Nathan, are you sure you are OK?” Might Be Phryne asked him.

 

“OK? I am unhurt, if that is what you mean, Miss Fisher” _That was a slip, Jack, you don’t know if this is the Miss Fisher you know or not._

“Essie. But I understand if you want to stay in character.” Essie Not Phryne replied with a slightly confused smile. Despite the heavy makeup, she was as beautiful as his Miss Fisher, and dressed as Phryne would be, in a lovely green frock. “Do you want to take it from another angle so you can get your bearings?”

 

“Uh, yes. That might be best.” He wasn’t sure what she was saying, but was grateful that she seemed to be buying him a little time to get himself oriented to his surroundings.

 

“Right. Let’s go again,” the man in the earmuffs called out.

 

“Tony?” Essie said to the man Jack now assumed to be the director, “Can we do the shot over Nathan’s shoulder first?”

 

“Sure” Tony replied, “Sean, take the handheld over Nathan’s shoulder.”

 

“On it,” replied the younger man, coming to stand behind him.

 

“Quiet on set” called Tony “and action.”

 

“Jack, wait,” said Essie.

 

Jack was confused. How did she know his name? Maybe this _was_ his Phryne after all. He reached out to touch her neck.

 

“Cut!” yelled Tony “Nathan, remember we took that part out. Jack doesn’t touch her here, he is storming out after his ‘parade of men’ speech.”

 

Jack had heard enough. He remembered now. The details were still blurry in his mind, but he remembered the one cocktail too many, telling Miss Fisher that he was a liberal-minded man, and seeing that damned cravat on the table.

 

“Can we take a 10 minute break, Tony? I need to have Ingrid look at something on my dress.” Essie was still looking at Jack quizzically.

 

“Might as well break for lunch. Thirty minutes everyone and we’ll pick it up again.”

 

“Nathan, why don’t you go lie down in the bedroom set for a tick? You don’t look like yourself.” Essie put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Thank you, Miss Fisher, but I don’t think being in your bedroom is such a good idea.” He looked around, “perhaps on of the spare bedrooms, instead?”

 

“I didn’t know you were so Method,” she said with a laugh, “come on, follow me.”

 

She walked to the side door of the parlour that in Miss Fisher’s house would have led to her study. Instead it was a series of flat panels that Jack last saw on the film set. _What was this place and why was it like Miss Fisher’s home, but not?_

She led him to a room that was slightly familiar, but Jack had only seen Phryne’s bedroom in the dark so he couldn’t remember the details.

 

“I need to get my coat, it’s been so chilly in Melbourne this last week.” She pulled back the covers on the bed “Now, you have a kip here and I’ll be back to get you soon.”

 

“Thank you, Phr … Essie. You’ve been very kind.” Jack sat down on the bed and removed his shoes. _Hadn’t there been a fourth wall and a fireplace?_ He thought.

 

Essie’s brows knit together in a worried look, then she walked to the set door and closed it behind her.

 

Jack wanted to think through all that he had seen, but the bed was surprisingly comfortable and he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack heard a man’s voice he didn’t recognize, “we need to keep him warm…”

 

A female voice that sounded suspiciously like Miss Fisher’s replied, “at the South Pole, they recommend skin to skin contact…”

 

Jack groaned slightly and wondered if he was dreaming again before sleep took him once more.

 

* * *

 

 

He woke again to the sound of birds chirping. Morning light was streaming in from the windows. He looked around. There were four walls and a ceiling. When he looked at himself under the covers, he was in blue silk pajamas. _In Miss Fisher’s bed!_

 

There was a knock at the door and he covered up quickly.

 

“Good morning, Inspector, I’ve pressed your suit.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Butler, “ replied Jack in a deep, sleepy voice.

 

“No trouble at all, sir.” The butler said as hung up the suit and left the room.

 

The moment the man was out of the room, Jack dressed as quickly as his headache would allow. _Oh, my head_ , he groaned, and headed downstairs.

 

He bumped into the flowers on the landing and attempted to right them. _If I can just reach my hat and coat_ , he thought as he spotted them on the hook, _I could make my escape._

_No sign of Miss Fisher or any one else,_ Jack looked left and right while moving gingerly down the stairs _, I have no idea what I would say to her after this._

 

“Hungry?”

 

* * *

 

 

“That was the best shot we got all day.” Tony Tilse said to his editor, Stephen. “We might as well use it.”

 

“I dunno, continuity is a little off. His hand isn’t on her neck, then suddenly it is?”

 

“I don’t think anyone will notice much, do you? Let’s leave it in.”


End file.
